When Things Happen
by Jasmine Storm
Summary: Takes place up through Smashed. Buffy/Spike, mostly. My first Buffy fic, please be gentle. I could write more if you all want to read more...
1. Chapter One

When Things Happen

By Jasmine Storm

A Buffy/Spike Story

From "Tabula Rasa" through "Wrecked."  It's not perfectly in time with the episodes, but I did my best to keep it as close as I could.  

This is my first attempt at a Buffy story, I hope that I did a good job.  Please, read and review and let me know what you think.  And if you want to comment, e-mail me directly at:

jsmnstrm@aol.com

Thanks

Jasmine

*          *          *

            Buffy sat in the Bronze, drinking up her third beer.  The weapon of choice of a certain neutered vampire she knew.  _Stop it!  I don't want to think about him!_  Besides, there was more on her mind than this.  Giles had left, he'd left her alone here.  Just like all the other men in her life.  Her father, Angel, Riley…  it was a continuing cycle that she didn't want to ever repeat again.  

            Sure, she had the Scoobies.  But that didn't mean a thing.  After all, they were just, well, kids.  They didn't know.  They didn't understand.  And even if they knew now, it didn't matter.  They couldn't comprehend what they had done.  There's no way.  

            They had come to her, talked to her about it, but she barely registered the conversations.  After all, it was just one more sign that they had pulled her from Heaven.  Pulled her from where she was supposed to be.  And it made her sick.  

            Her day of being 'memory-less' didn't leave her feeling too much better either.  Thinking she was Joan and some kind of super-hero was not something she wanted to think about again.  

            Even Tara left Willow.  The couple who she thought would always be together, are now separated.  And she didn't blame Tara at all.  After all, Willow had started it.  She'd done it to herself.  

            She took a large gulp off her beer, her eyes downward, not seeing the dark shadow standing over her table.  She brought her eyes up slowly, seeing Spike standing before her at the table.  

            He grabbed a chair and spun it around, staring at her across the table.  "Thought I'd find you here."  

            "Shouldn't you be laying low?  Isn't Teeth gonna be after his kittens?"  Buffy smirked at him.  

            "Don't care about that," he said, pulling a cigarette from his duster and lighting it.  "I'm a bit more concerned about you."  

            She glared up at him, running her fingers down the side of the glass.  "And what makes you think I need you to worry about me, _Randy_," she snidely said to him.  

            He glared at her, his eyes narrowing briefly.  "I was concerned about old bugger leaving."  

            "Giles, his name is Giles," Buffy said as she takes a long tug off her beer.  "And it's only natural."  

            "What is natural?"  Spike asked, scooting closer to her.  

            "His leaving.  It's a natural evolution," Buffy replied, convinced of her own correctness.  "Everyone leaves."  

            "Not everyone," Spike whispered, almost inaudibly.  

            "You don't know anything," she snapped at him.  She stood up from her chair to retrieve another beer.  

            Spike jumped up after her, grabbing her by the arm.  "I know more than you think, pet," he said, staring into her eyes.  

            Buffy's lip quivered, her eyes began to well with tears.  Spike pulled her to him, embracing her in the darkness of the Bronze.  He held her close, letting her cry in his arms.  

            She looked up into the vampire's blue eyes, and grabbed the back of his head.  She pulled him down into her, kissing him passionately.  Instantly, he returned the kiss, pulling her harder into him.  He slowly worked his way forwards, pressing Buffy into a pole, never stopping the kiss.  

            They stood there like that, kissing deeply, until they both lost total track of time and place.  Kissing until all her pain melted away.  

            After who knew how long, Buffy broke away from him, staring into his face.  A face filled with something that she didn't want to see.  Something that she didn't want to understand.  She jerked away from him, running out of the Bronze.  

            Spike stood there and watched her leave.  He instantly wanted to go after her, but he didn't.  Instead, he lit a cigarette, and walked to the bar, ordering a double shot of bourbon.  

*          *          *

            Buffy laid in her bed, her hair fanned out around her, her eyes shut, and her mind running amuck.  _What was I thinking?  What was I doing?  I'm loosing what little grasp on reality I had left…_  She snapped her eyes open and stared at the ceiling.  Sunlight poured into the room.  Morning had come.  _Nothing in this world is even close to what Heaven is.  Nothing can even come close to that kind of beauty and peace.  _

_            Except one thing.  _

_            His lips on mine.  _

_            The touch of his hands on my flesh_

_            The feel of his body pressed against mine.  _

            "Stop it!"  Buffy yelled at herself in the bedroom.  "I can't do this to myself!"  

            "Buffy?"  Dawn stuck her head into the bedroom, looking strangely at her big sister.  

            Buffy snapped her head toward the door.  "Yeah?"

            "Are you all right in here?"

            Buffy plastered a fake smile on her face.  "I'm fine.  Just muttering aloud.  That's all."  

            "Oh, okay," Dawn said.  "Well, if you need anything, Willow's downstairs, and I'm off to school.  I'll see you this afternoon."  She smiled and turned, heading out the door.  

            _I need my brain reattached to my head!  I need a new soul, I need, I need, I need!_  Buffy laid back down on the bed, her head swirling around, her mind running rampant.  _I can't do this to myself.  I can't think about it.  It was only a kiss!  Nothing more._  She stood up from the bed, and mechanically got dressed.  She dressed not in a cute outfit, as her normal attire, but instead in a set of workout clothes, throwing her hair up into an unflattering bun.  

            She walked downstairs, seeing Willow setting at the dining room table, her head down, and the light that usually filled her eyes died away, and her posture looking defeated.  

            "Hey," Buffy said, her own voice sounding as gloomy as Willow looked.  

            "Hey," Willow replied.  She looked up at Buffy, her eyes swollen from hours and hours of crying.  

            "So, do you know what happened?"  Buffy asked her.  

            Willow looked back down at the table.  "I left the flowers by the fireplace.  I found the ashes of the whole bag left there.  I guess the fire sparked, setting it all on fire."  She sounded defeated, her voice almost clinical in describing what happened.  

            Buffy nodded at her.  "I'm going to work out."  

            "See ya," Willow muttered.  

            Buffy nodded to her, and headed toward the door, grabbing from the closet a bag of gear.  It was merely mechanical of her to grab it, even though the last thing she wanted to do was be the Slayer again today.  

            How she didn't want this anymore.  She died, for Christ's sake.  She wasn't supposed to be here.  She wasn't supposed to do this anymore.  Her time had been up.  Her ticked cashed.  She didn't need to be here.  She shouldn't be here.  

            Yet here was where she was.  In Sunnydale, and still the Slayer.  She didn't want to go to the Magic Shop.  The last thing she wanted was to see anymore Scoobies.  She walked until she didn't think she could walk anymore, to an old abandon warehouse on the edge of town.  

            Kicking in the door, she let herself into the dilapidated old building.  The dust and soot on the floor showed just how many people hadn't been there in ages, and that's what she wanted.  Time alone.  Far away from everyone.  She didn't want to be the Slayer.  She wanted to be back.  Back where she was before.  

            _In his arms…_

            "No, damnit! No! That's not where I want to be!"  She screamed at the room.  She dropped her bag and began her workout.  

            She began running the length of the warehouse, doing flips, jumps, kicks, anything to force her not to think about what was flying through her head.  

            _He's dead.  I'm alive.  He's a Vamp, I'm the Slayer_.  She landed several strong kicks into a pillar in the room, knocking most of the concrete loose.  _I can't be with him_.  She kicked again and again at the pillar.  

            _Yet, you are just as dead as he is_.  

            "I am not dead!"  She screamed out against the voices in her head.  "I'm not!"  

            For hours she ran like a crazy person, jumping, kicking, punching, and running.  She mostly ran.  Anything to make the words go away.  


	2. Chapter Two

When Thing Happen, Chapter 2

By Jasmine Storm

From "Tabula Rasa" through "Wrecked."  It's not perfectly in time with the episodes, but I did my best to keep it as close as I could.  

This is my first attempt at a Buffy story, I hope that I did a good job.  Please, read and review and let me know what you think.  And if you want to comment, e-mail me directly at:

jsmnstrm@aol.com

Thanks

Jasmine

*          *          *

            Spike awoke just as the sun began to go down.  He could still feel the light, so he didn't dare open his coffin just yet.  It wasn't time yet.  

            Besides, his thoughts were elsewhere.  

            _The taste of her lips on his, the feel of her skin under his, the touch of her, her sweet scent…  Everything about her_.  

            His love for her burned like a fire through his skin.  His deepest dreams were finally beginning to come true.  He finally was realizing how deep his love for her ran, not to mention, that she felt that way too.  

            _She did, didn't she?  _

            _She had to, the passion, the bloody need that almost seemed tangible, and it all was so desperately wanted.  She has to love me as well_.  

            A smile crept across his face.  He knew he had been in love with Buffy for a very long time.  He knew in his heart, if it beat like a living person's, would pound so hard when he was near her, it would erupt from his chest, shot like a cannon.  

            He had so long desperately wanted to kiss her.  He needed it, he could feel it.  If his body bled, it would be an outpouring of love and need for her.  He needed to feel her against him.  He wanted it more than he could possibly imagine.  The taste of her only fed the craving more.  How he would make love to her, to desperately touch her, ease her suffering.

            He knew of her suffering.  Ever since she came back, he knew that she had been pulled from Heaven instead of the grasp of Hell, as the others had thought.  She told him right away.  And he had felt privileged to receive that information, since she told no one else.  

            At least not until the Demon of Song came into their lives.  

            Of course, there was a happy ending to that one.  

            Their first kiss.  

            He allowed their first kiss to fill his mind.  The instant taste of her, the crushing of her lips against his, the needy taste they both craved from one another.  The heat from her body inflaming his own heat.  

            She drove him insane.  

            One moment, she wanted nothing to do with him, and the next she was in his arms.  All he wanted more than life itself was to ease her mind, ease her suffering.  Anything to make her life, her mind, her soul, at ease.  Anything.  

            So, he never told her how he felt.  For fear that she would never have anything to do with him again.  She had loved before.  But now, more than ever, she needed love again.  

            _And I'm just the chap to give it to her_, he thought to himself as he snapped his head up from the bed.  

            "Bloody Hell!"  He cried out, as Buffy stood over the make-shift bed, as if she were about to wake him from his slumber.  

            She cried out, in shock as much as he did, jumping back away from the bed.  

            He sat up, instantly jumping out of the bed, and landing on the ground with a soft thud.  "I was just coming to see you," he said softly.  

            She blushed and looked away from him.  He glanced down at himself, realizing what she was blushing at.  He had neglected to sleep in anything again.  

            "Not like that, I hope," she said, putting her back to him.  She was still dressed in her workout clothes.  Her body looked dirty and sweaty, as though she had been working out all day long.  She stepped away from the bed, over toward his television.  She rested her hand on it, and didn't bother turning around until she heard the sound of his zipper on his pants.  

            "What do you miss the most about being alive, Spike?"  She asked, her voice soft, but a sadness lingering in the words.  

            Spike thought for a moment.  "I'm not sure."  He walked over to his favorite chair and grabbed the cigarettes off the table.  

            "There must be something you miss about being alive," she encouraged.  

            "Beds."  

            Buffy snapped her head around and looked at him, her face filled with a puzzled expression.  "Beds?"

            "Yeah," Spike said.  "Beds. Real beds, with three or four mattresses and lots of pillows."  He watched her for a moment as she seated herself on the floor facing him, closer than she probably intended, but just far enough to be out of his reach.  

            "Beds?"  She looked up at him quizzically.  

            "Coffins don't have much for comfort features.  And they're terrible to bring someone home to."  Spike said, a grin spreading across his face.  

            She smiled, if only slightly.  "I can see your point."  She shook her head.  "I'm going insane here," she said softly.  "I'm loosing my mind."  

            Spike reached out to touch her shoulder, but she moved away.  

            "Giles is gone, Willow and Tara are broken up, and I'm supposed to be dead!"  She let out a frustrated sigh.  "I hate this!" 

            Spike got closer to her.  "It's the life of a Slayer," he whispered to her.  

            "Got any bourbon?"  She asked.  

            "I don't think you need any." 

            "What do you know about what I need?" 

            He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself.  _I know what you need, I know what you should have.  And it's not in the bottom of a bottle!_  "I just don't think a drunk Slayer is what the world needs."  

            She let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.  "What, you think you're my keeper now that Giles is gone?"  

            "No."  

            "Good," she snapped at him.  "Get me something do drink."  

            "I don't have anything."

            Buffy nodded at him, standing up and headed for the ladder that lead to the door.  

            "Where are you going?"  

            "I'm getting what I want."  Buffy said as she left.

            Spike shook his head.  "Bloody Hell," he muttered as he finished getting dressed as fast as he could and headed after her.  

*          *          *

            Buffy stormed off through the cemetery, heading for the nearest liquor store.  She needed a drink.  She needed something.  And it wasn't Spike getting a conscience on her.  She could take care of herself, right?  Yet she couldn't get over the emptiness inside her.  That aching that throbbed every day, every moment…

            _Except when you kissed him…_

            "Stop!"  She cried out.  "It was just a kiss.  Nothing more!"  She said, trying to stop the rampant thoughts in her mind.  

            "Buffy!"  Spike called out, catching her in a moment.  

            She stopped, turning around to face him, the scowl on her face making him stop in his tracks.  

            "Buffy, I want to talk to you."  

            "Why?"  she snapped.  "What, to tell me some morally correct thing, that you shouldn't even understand!"  She started walking again.  

            "Buffy," he said, grabbing her arm.  

            She grabbed him, her instincts taking over, and she flipped him down on the ground.  "I don't want to talk to you."  

            "Buffy," he said, getting up.  "We need to talk."  

            "Why?"  

            "We kissed, don't you think that needs addressing?"  His voice was desperate, more desperate than he wanted it to be.  _And damnit all, she wasn't about to walk away from this!_  

            "Why?"  She said, storming off.  "It was just a kiss."  

            He reached out, grabbing her again.  She snapped around, kicking him in the stomach.  He went flying across the ground.  

            "It was more than one," he snapped back at her.  

            "Whatever."  Buffy replied, not looking at him.  

            "You felt something."  He said, staring up at her as she stood over him.  She dropped on his chest, holding his arms back away from him.  

            "Whatever."

            "You can't tell me it didn't mean anything to you?

            "It was a demon," she said, refusing to even acknowledge anything he said.  _Don't deny, don't do that to yourself_, her mind screamed at her.  

            "Last night was no demon!"  

            "I was thinking about Giles."

            "That's just great!" He said, as he knocked her off him.  "You think about old bugger when you kiss me, that's just perfect!"  He got up, his duster flying everywhere behind him as he paced frantically. 

            "Deal with it, Spike.  It was nothing," she said as she walked away.  

            He stared after her, realizing that his chip didn't activate when he knocked her off him.  "What the bloody Hell?"  he muttered softly to himself.  


	3. Chapter Three and Epilouge

When Things Happen, Chapter 3

By Jasmine Storm

From "Tabula Rasa" through "Wrecked."  It's not perfectly in time with the episodes, but I did my best to keep it as close as I could.  

This is my first attempt at a Buffy story, I hope that I did a good job.  Please, read and review and let me know what you think.  And if you want to comment, e-mail me directly at:

jsmnstrm@aol.com

Thanks

Jasmine

*          *          *

            Buffy sat with the Scoobies in the Magic shop, going over more research on demons, and she felt like her head was about to explode.  She didn't want to think about Spike.  Anything to keep from thinking about him.  _You weren't thinking of Giles, and you know it_, her thoughts rang out.  Had she been alone, she would have smacked herself in the head for such a thought.  She instead focused on the diamond they were researching.    __

            The phone rang, and Buffy jumped up to answer it.  "Magic Shop," She said into the receiver.  

            A deep voice replied.  "I need to see you,"  it said.

            "Who is this?"  She asked.

            "Meet me in the cemetery in twenty minutes," he said.

            "Is this Spike?"

            "Be there, Slayer."  

            "Is this Spike?"  She said again.  

            The voice on the other end let out an annoyed sigh.  "Bloody Hell!  Yeah, it's me."

            "What's this about?"

            "Bumps and grinds," he replies.

            "That's sick!"  She snapped back at him.  

            "Well, I was wanting to talk shop with you love, but if you're interested in something else, a candlelit crypt can be arranged."  His voice was thick with something she hadn't ever heard in it before, and it was not something she wanted to hear more of.  

            With that, Buffy slammed the phone back on the wall.  She walked back to the group, and Xander looked up at her.

            "What did peroxide brain want?"  

            She shook her head, her face looking pale and nervous.  "I don't know," she said as she sat back down.  "Let's get back to work, shall we?"  

*          *          *

            As they all left, Buffy started off on a short patrol of the area, letting Xander, Anya, and Dawn go back home.  Willow had left early, to take Amy, who was now w/o rat body, out for a night on the town.  Buffy didn't get far, though.  Spike leapt out of a shadow, glaring down at her.  

            "You didn't show, Slayer," he said, glaring at her.

            "Get out of my way," she replied, trying to get away from him.  

            "No," he said, getting closer to her.  "All this time, I thought there was something wrong with me, but now I know." 

            "What do you think you know?"

            "It's you, it's all you.  You're the one that's different, not me, love.  You're the one that's dead inside, not me.  I thought my chip was broken, but it's not, it's all you," Spike said, lurking toward her.

            "What the Hell are you talking about?"

            "You're not human anymore," he said, drawing his fist back and punching her square in the jaw.  

            Buffy jerked back, returning with a punch of her own.  "What the Hell?"

            "Part of you is still dead, it's not human anymore," he said as he punched her back.

            The two of them began to brawl, each one throwing and kicking each other as hard as they could.  Buffy threw Spike through an abandon building's door, and charged in after him.

            "You're wrong," she snapped back at him.  

            "Then how come I'm not screaming in agony?"  He snapped back, tossing her into a pillar.  

            She spat back in his face, kicking him off her.  "I'm still human, it's you who's insane."  

            He landed with a thud on the far wall.  "Don't think so, love,"  he spat back as he launched himself at her, slamming her into a wall.

            Their banter continued back and forth as they tossed each other into the walls of the building, the walls crumbling around them as they fought.  Each throw slammed the other person so hard into the dilapidated building, a fleeting thought ran through Buffy's mind that the building might just collapse around them both.  

            "I'm in love with you, damnit!"  Spike snapped at her as she threw him into what looked like an old mantle.  

            "You're in love with pain," she snapped back, not allowing the words to register in her mind.  _I'm in love with you damnit!_  No matter how hard she tried, the words rang out in her brain like a broken record.  

            He launched at her again, throwing her into another pillar, pinning her against the wall.  For a moment, his eyes filled with something other than anger at her, but she shoved him away from her, slamming him into the wall.  

            And then it happened.  

            She looked into his eyes, and she could see the love there, she could see his need, his desire, his want for her, and she could feel her own stirring inside her.  She pressed herself against him, her lips locking around his, their bodies pressed harder against each other than they ever had before.  

            He raised her up in his arms, pushing her back against the pillar, holding her to him as his lips began to ravage hers.  Their kissing revealed both their desperate needs for one another, their wanton cravings, their desperate desires pulling them into one another's arms, finally.  

            She could feel him pressed against her, his whole body shoved against her tiny form, his desire pressing into her abdomen.  And she liked it.  

            His lips ravaged her face, her neck, her shoulders, any part of her that he could make contact with, and she did the same to him.  Had the flames of passion been real, both of them would have been dead in moments, the fire between them so strong and desperate.  

            He shifted her up in his arms, her chest almost level with his head as his body grinded into hers.  Her head rocked back against the pillar as he found a way beneath her clothes, revealing her delicate skin.  The touch of his hands against her stomach and hips nearly sent her reeling over the edge of consciousness right then.  She rolled her head back against the cool concrete as she felt him enter her.  Not slowly, not gently, either.  

            The heat of his skin inside her made her cry out in pure ecstasy, her body automatically grinding against his.  They were no longer in this dilapidated building, but instead somewhere else, somewhere far away from Sunnydale and vampires and demons and all that was wrong with the world.  For the moment, it was as if they were in Heaven.  They're together, and all that felt good, right and beautiful was hers and his for the taking, together.  

            Their bodies shifted and rocked against the pillar, and the moans that escaped her lips drove him harder, and his moans made her quiver and grind against him.  All either of them wanted to do was bring the other to that pinnacle of happiness, that pinnacle of peace and joy.  

            Together in unison, they both cried out, their bodies shifting and contracting at the same moment, that one fateful moment that they had been trying to reach.  Their orgasms brought them both to a higher plane of existence, if briefly for a moment, back into the Heaven that Buffy had been snagged from, that same Heaven that Spike would never see in his immortal life.  And they both knew it.  

            Buffy lowered her head and looked into his eyes.  She saw the love there, the pure, complete love there that she had seen in his eyes so many times before but refused to recognize.  

            In her eyes, Spike saw the Heaven that he always wanted to reach, that pure level of unconditional passion, joy, and love, all in one glance.  He saw that she loved him in a way he had never imagined, in a way that he had never comprehended before, and in that one moment, he felt complete and alive in a way that he never had, even when he was alive.  

            Buffy looked at him, pushing away from the pillar, her legs still wrapped around him, and they hurled through the air into the floor.  But they didn't stop at the floor, they fell through, falling into the basement of the building, the walls and ceiling crashing down around them, still, neither one caring at that moment if the whole building crashed down on top of them.  

            Buffy shifted, bringing her mouth down on top of his, and the two of them began again, this time, a tiny bit slower, but not much, as their flames of love were instantly rejuvenated.  

*          *          *

            Buffy awoke, her body nude, pressed against Spike's in the dilapidated basement.  A tattered blanket covered the both of them, and at that moment, she felt complete, a kind of completeness that she had never felt before.  In her mind, instantly she felt that she was in the place where she needed to be, for the rest of eternity.  

            Then she awoke enough to realize where she was, and what she had been doing.  She bolted upright out of the bed, looking around to find her clothing scattered around the room, and a strange shiver of revulsion filled her.  She leapt out of the bed and instantly began dressing.  

            As she ran around the room, throwing her clothing on, she could see Spike's form on the floor.  For the briefest of moments, she stopped and stared at him.  Stared at his cool pale skin, the definition in his shoulders, his arms and his stomach.  _He's beautiful_, her mind told her, _he's beautiful, kind, gentle, passionate, and he's in love with you… _She shook her head and finished dressing.

            While she did, Spike awoke, blinking and staring up at her.  "Where do you think you're going?"  

            "Home, I'm going home.  I'm sure Dawn is worried sick about me." She said as she put her shoes on.

            "Without even saying anything to me?"

            "Why?  This won't ever happen again!  It's not going to!  And it will never be spoken about again!" She snapped at him.

            Spike stared at her, his eyes filling with an evil grin.  "I won't have to."

            She stared at him, standing rather close to the edge of the make-shift bed.  He grabbed her, pulling her down on top of him, his passion re-ignited, kissing her desperately.  She resisted at first, not wanting to let the primal feelings he drummed up in her ignite, but they did nonetheless, and she collapsed on top of him, returning his kiss.  She didn't want to leave him, but she knew she had to. 

            "Dawn," she managed to whisper, breaking away from him.  "I have to get home to Dawn.  She's probably…"  She murmured as he slowly began to release her.  She stood up, pulling back from him, and walking away from his body, even though every part of her being wanted to stay and never leave again.  

            "Only for nibblet," Spike whispered, as he watched her climb out of the basement.  

*          *          *

            Spike barely was able to make it back to his crypt before the sun came up fully.  He walked in, seeing his candlelit crypt, the wax burned down to the nub, the rose petals still sitting on the bed.  The music had long since shut off, and he smirked at himself.  

            "Not exactly what I had planned, but it was good," he said as he began cleaning up his crypt.  

            At dusk, Spike was awakened by Buffy standing over him, her face pale, her eyes wide.  He jerked up at her.  "What," he muttered, pulling the covers back, revealing his nakedness again to her.  

            She spun around, her hands covering her eyes.  "Don't you sleep in anything ever?"  

            "Thought you'd be used to the site by now, luv," he muttered.  "What's going on?"  

            Buffy quickly spilled out what had happened, Willow had run off with Dawn, and was now missing.  And Willow had been seeing Rack, some witch…  But that's all Buffy had to say.  

            Spike was up, and dressed in the blink of an eye.  "We have to find her."  They both bolted out of the crypt.  

*          *          *

            They walk the streets of Sunnydale, barely speaking to one another, as they look for Rack's place.  

            Spike had explained to Buffy how he had a mobile place, and that one had to be a witch to find it.  As he explained, Buffy's anger seethed in her, she was ready to beat Willow even more with every step she took.  

            Spike seemed to be loving every step he took with her, slowly bating her with short innuendos about last night, and she nearly beat him.  Had Buffy not needed him to help her find Dawn, she probably would have.  

            "You can't help it, Slayer, you need me," he said to her, his voice still cockey and filled with leer.  

            "I need you like I need a bullet in the head," Buffy spat back to him.  

            "You need me more than you know," his voice dropped, and he glanced at her.  "I'm in your blood now, Slayer, you need me like I need blood."  

            "I don't need anything!"  She snapped back at him.  Her mind suddenly filled with the images and feelings of him.  His body, his skin, his touch.  She shook her head, brushing off the thoughts.  _I can't, I can't do this to myself.  I have to find Dawn.  I have to. _  She tried not to look at the vampire next to her.  Each time she did, she felt her own passions re-igniting all over again, and that was not what she needed now.  

            They continued on their way, Spike being decent enough not to say anymore about last night.  He didn't have to.  He knew he was under her skin.  He could tell.  And that was enough for him.  _She'll admit it soon enough_, he thought to himself, _she has to, or she'll go insane_.  

*          *          *

Epilogue

            Buffy sat in her room, staring at the garlic plastered around the windows.  She gripped the cross in her hand with a death grip.  _He's not getting me, he's not getting in here._  

            Dawn was staying at the hospital for the night for observation, but the doctors didn't see why she couldn't come home in the morning.  She had a broken rib, but other than that, she was fine.  

            She and Willow had quite a conversation when they got home.  Willow promised no more spells.  _'You push things to far, and you just don't know what you're doing,'_ Willow had said.   Something like that, anyway.  But it was enough.  Enough for Buffy.  It hit her hard.  Harder than she realized.  

            She closed her eyes, still holding the cross and leaned back into her bed.  Heaven was getting farther and farther away.  And she wasn't going to let him in.  She wasn't. Not now, not again, not ever.  No matter how close to Heaven she felt with him.  

            No matter what things happen.  


End file.
